


Tea and Honey

by wrabbit



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Food, G for Gregory, Hands, M/M, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-19
Updated: 2010-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-12 00:52:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrabbit/pseuds/wrabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade thoroughly enjoys a late brunch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea and Honey

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by Snow

"What's this all about?" The man looked even less steady on his feet close up, but Mycroft couldn't bring himself to feel guilty. From the glassy look in Lestrade's eyes and fresh coffee stain on his cuff, he wouldn't have slept even if Mycroft had instructed his driver to walk him to bed.

"You clocked out but didn't return home last night," Mycroft said in lieu of a greeting. He glanced down at the round table that had been prepared beside him in place of a desk. Everything had been arranged perfectly.

"There were some developments," Lestrade admitted. He smiled humorlessly at Mycroft's look, his attention already on the table and its contents. He sat down without being asked and glanced around the nondescript office as Mycroft filled the cup in front of him with fresh strongly brewed tea.

"Please, you must be starving."

Mycroft sat down across from him smiling as Lestrade failed to hide his realization of how hungry he was. "What about you?" Lestrade asked, already reaching for the boiled eggs as he should.

"I'm fine," Mycroft said and thought of the filling breakfast of porridge with jam and fresh fruit he had earlier that morning. He enjoyed his guest's obvious anticipation and pleasure.

Lestrade filled his plate with two of everything, practically sighing when he lifted a silver platter to reveal the bacon and hash browns Mycroft had remembered to have ordered this time.

As the noon glare approached, they spoke quietly about Lestrade's late night and morning, about Sherlock and the mix up that had called him out of bed the day before that. Lestrade dug into his full plate while they talked, losing the tension in his shoulders by degrees and pausing only to gulp the tea that Mycroft replenished every few minutes. He didn't begrudge Lestrade his manners, after all, the point had been to feed the unfortunate man.

Their conversation reached a comfortable pause as Lestrade finished and sighed, reaching for the pastry basket with less desperation than he had the hot foods. "This is almost worth the all-nighter," he said. "Thank you."

"Well. I wouldn't want to encourage you."

Lestrade rolled his eyes affectionately. "As if you're any better," he muttered. "You need to eat, too, you know. You get less rest than I do, though you won't admit it."

Mycroft frowned, too used to fielding this topic.

"I don't think you realize how good these brunches are," Lestrade continued. Mycroft raised an eyebrow at his tone.

"I know it perfectly. I have frequented them often."

"But not lately."

"No."

"I don't know," Lestrade said, for all appearances prepared to drop the topic. He lifted a gooey food that really should be eaten with a knife and fork between his fingers. "I think they've gotten better."

Mycroft watched impassively as Lestrade proceeded to do something borderline inappropriate to a honeyed scone with his lips and tongue. He took a delicate bite that did nothing to prevent the flaky crumbs that he then licked and sucked off his bottom lip.

"Are you sure you didn't want any?" Lestrade asked, setting down the ravaged pastry. He ignored the perfectly serviceable napkin to suck the amber goo off from his thumb.

"I'm fine," Mycroft insisted.

Lestrade sucked his index finger into his mouth, followed by his middle, fastidiously cleaning the honey out from between them with his tongue. "Are you sure?" he asked again. Mycroft, distracted by the man's wet fingers, glanced up after a moment to meet Lestrade's smiling eyes. "Gregory," Mycroft said mildly.

"Yes?"

"I do hope you're feeling refreshed."

"Very much so," Lestrade said and yawned, sighing ruefully a moment later. "Why?"

Mycroft set his unused napkin down on his empty plate and stood up, stepping around the table.

"I'm afraid you are going to be made late to your afternoon shift after all. I do apologize," he said.


End file.
